Epilogo
Ravenna nibbled on a biscotto di Prato as she stared at the Luni famiglia.
It was her favorite almond biscuit, and she craved them at all hours.
She was always hungry these days, she thought with a rueful smile.
She took another bite, stepping close to Fortuna, her expression locked in an eternal grimace.
A familiar feeling of sympathy tugged at her heart.
It was a fate she wouldn’t wish on anyone.
It had become a routine of hers to go out into the palazzo garden in the early morning before she began her work in the studio.
She sorted through the demands of the day.
One commission to finish, another to prep.
Her family, and Maria with her young son, Francesco, were arriving in a couple of days; she’d speak to Tomasso about preparing their rooms. The twins would have to be separated, according to Mamma’s previous letter.
They were at an age when everything irritated them, and for everyone’s peace of mind, it was best to keep them from brawling.
For Tereza, she’d selected her favorite guest room, a chamber filled with sunlight and pink brocade.
It used to belong to Fortuna.
Ravenna eyed the statue critically, noting areas that needed refurbishment. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” she promised Fortuna.
Movement at the edge of the garden caught her eye.
Her husband leaned against a marble pillar, his arms folded across his leather doublet, gaze soft and intent on hers.
A small smile tugged at his mouth as he watched her take another nibble of the biscuit.
He made his way over, walking until he stood behind her, arms coming around Ravenna’s middle to pull her snug against him.
“Do you think they can hear us?” Saturnino murmured.
“No,” she said ruefully. “But I can’t seem to shake the habit.”
“I like them better this way.” He drifted his hand lower, palm covering the curve of her belly, gently rounded. The baby leaped in her womb, and she smiled. Saturnino dipped his head lower to press his temple against hers. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry,” she said, finishing the last of the biscuit.
Saturnino pulled out another from his doublet. Ravenna chuckled and took it from him. “Why do you always have food on your person?”
“I have slices of cheese, too,” Saturnino admitted, and she laughed again. He nuzzled the line of her throat. “What about Fiorella?”
Ravenna tipped her head back to better lean against him. “Are you so sure she’ll be a girl?”
“Ombretta seems to think so,” Saturnino said, turning her around in his arms.
“When did she tell you?”
“She’s here now.”
“Cat or witch?”
“A witch today,” he said.
Ravenna’s brows rose. Simonetta often stopped by the palazzo when she wasn’t with her son, but usually in her feline form.
She came for milk and their company, but often to search the palazzo for the missing Nightflames so she could return them to the fae king.
To this day, they hadn’t been able to find where Marco had hidden the last four, much to Saturnino’s incredulous amazement.
“Where is she?”
“In the armory,” Saturnino said. “She’s made a discovery.”
“The armory,” Ravenna echoed. “Don’t tell me…”
Saturnino tugged her hand. “Come and see, amore.”